


More Than The Sum

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, Dub-con inherent with sex pollen, M/M, Multi, Scerek Plus Festival, Sex Pollen, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which four of the pack get a little closer than planned</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than The Sum

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Scerek+ Fest. The sex happens because the four of them get sex-pollened by pixies, so there are consent issues attached to that.

It's Scott who wakes up first, overheated and needing to piss and his legs pinned down by something heavy. And there's a moment when he can't remember what happened, a moment when all he wonders is, if that's Derek on one side of him, then who the hell is the very obviously masculine body on his other side, and then the memories hit him.

He remembers the way he and Derek had gone to speak to the pixies that lived in the preserve after Sheriff Stilinski had mentioned that they'd been getting some strange reports from people. Reports from people using the running trails and then feeling like they were losing time, feeling like they were stoned or high. The deputies had come up with various theories, ranging from some sort of hallucinogenic plant pollen in the air, to people using the preserve for cooking meth and the fumes affecting people. There'd been talk of getting in experts, botanists for one side, and the FBI for the other. The Sheriff, however, had just phoned Scott.

Scott remembers the call coming through, remembers being at Derek's, lounging on the couch and part way through a lazy make-out session, jeans still on and rutting against each other, when his cell had rung. He remembers agreeing to go and scout out the preserve, remembers Derek ringing Peter and Chris. (Because, whether they're entirely comfortable having Peter at their back or not - even if he's better than he was, even if Chris seems to have calmed the homicidal urges in the wolf - Peter and Chris are the best back up to have in the event something goes wrong.)

They'd met at the edge of the preserve, Peter bitching as soon as Scott and Derek had arrived, commenting that he had better things to do than to run around the preserve at night. He'd continued right up until Chris had reached out, had laid a hand on the back of Peter's neck and stopped him with a single _"Peter, enough."_

They'd found the pixies, wings glowing softly as they'd zipped around the trees in the darkness. They were helping, they'd said. People were too serious, too uptight, they'd said. Those in the big world held too much inside themselves, too afraid to let other people see, they'd said. They wanted to help the pack, as well, they'd said.

There'd been colour and light and the soft smell of citrus. There'd been Derek and Peter growling, and Chris yelling something, and then Scott's body had been awash with heat, and he remembers turning to look at the others, each of them with pixies buzzing around them. He remembers turning to look at them and feeling this overwhelming _want_.

Scott's not entirely sure how they got back to the loft. He thinks it was Chris' truck, all of them reaching out for each other as they'd stumbled back through the preserve. He remembers straddling Derek in the back seat, pressing eager kisses to Derek's lips, his tongue licking against the fangs in Derek's mouth. He remembers Peter next to them, his hands around Scott's waist as he pulled Scott from Derek's lap to his own.

Scott remembers thinking about the way Peter's mouth against his felt different than Derek's did. They way Peter's tongue gave kitten-like licks at his lips until Scott returned the kiss. He remembers seeing Derek lean forward out of the corner of his eye, hearing the moan Chris gave as Derek did something Scott couldn't see, hearing the way Derek told him to get them back to the loft quicker, feeling the way the truck speeded up under them.

He thinks it was Chris he was against in the lift, on the way up to the loft. Thinks it was Chris' hands against his ass and squeezing, Chris' thigh between his legs as his hips hitched, rubbing against it.

Scott's sure their clothes are scattered across the loft, Chris' jacket thrown over the back of the couch, Derek's t-shirt somewhere near the door, his own jeans cast aside onto the floor.

His mouth feels thick, fuzzy, and he can recognise Derek's taste still on his tongue, but he also has the memory of blowing Chris. Has the memory of being on his knees as fingers (Derek's, they were Derek's) opened Chris' jeans, slid inside to pull the hunter's hard cock out. And Chris had been hot and heavy on Scott's tongue, his fingers running through Scott's hair as with each _That's it--_ and _Take it--_

His hearing had picked up on Derek, Scott being intimately attuned to the noises Derek makes when he gets his cock sucked. Had picked up on the _Yeah--_ and the _That's right--_ and the _Peter--_

And he remembers his own cock throbbing at the knowledge that Derek was being blown by his uncle, throbbing at the knowledge that Peter Hale was on his knees.

His head had been swimming, caught up between the noise Chris was making as Scott's tongue pressed against his cock, flicked out over his cockhead, and the noises coming from Derek, the soft groans and hitched breaths that Scott always loved hearing. There'd been a litany of curses, the quiet _fuckfuckfuck--_ that Derek made when he was getting close. And Scott had wanted to see it, had pulled away from Chris' cock and looked over. He'd looked just in time to see Derek's fingers tangle in Peter's hair, holding his uncle on his cock. Looked over in time to see Derek's ass flex, as he came, filling Peter's mouth.

Derek had stepped back, and there'd been a single trail of saliva still connecting nephew to uncle. Scott doesn't know if he'd made a sound, but Peter had looked at him, eyes wide and too blue. And Scott had never thought that seeing Peter Hale stalking towards him on all fours would be anything less than terrifying (because he still remembers the pain of Peter's teeth in his side, still remembers the pull of his alpha, feral and instinct-led, calling out to him, to come, to kneel, to submit), but the only thing he'd been feeling had been want.

He'd reached out for Peter as soon as the other wolf was close enough, pulling Peter towards him and crashing their mouths together. And Scott's tongue had run through Derek's come, the come Peter hadn't swallowed, when Peter's lips had opened. They'd passed it between them, coating teeth and tongue and lips in Derek, each of them swallowing tiny amounts before they passed it back to the other. Kissing until the come was gone, swallowed between them until it was nothing but a taste on Peter's tongue, on Scott's lips.

They'd broken the kiss when Peter had pulled back, his head turning only a split second before Scott's had, only a split second before Scott had heard the glide of skin against skin.

Chris had been standing behind Derek, reaching around him to grip Derek's cock, fingers moving over the hardening flesh. And Scott remembers wanting his mouth on Derek's cock, wanting to take Derek down his throat, just like Peter had.

He remembers starting to move towards Chris and Derek, remembers being stopped by Chris' voice.

"I want to see you fuck Peter."

Only Scott hadn't known who Chris was speaking to, hadn't known until--

"Both of you."

And Scott had _wanted_. Wanted to feel Peter under him, around him. Wanted to feel this wolf who was his alpha, but not, who was his beta, but not, open around his cock.

He remembers looking over at Peter. Remembers looking at Peter, who barely counts himself among the Hale-McCall pack, who sits in pack meetings and offers commentary disguised as biting sarcasm. Peter, who bends to no one but Chris.

Remembers looking at him and hearing the shuddered moan that came from Peter's lips, hearing the _"Yes--"_ that came with it.

Scott hadn't thought the bed was big enough for four, but they'd made it work. Heat had been prickling at the inside of Scott's skin as he'd watched Chris open Peter up with his fingers, watched Peter push back and demand more.

It had been quick and perfunctory, and Scott thinks now that if they'd all been in their right minds, they'd have known it was barely enough. Although, if they'd all been in their right minds, they'd have hardly been in that position in the first place. There'd have been no Chris, pushing lube into Peter, twisting his fingers as he pulled them out of Peter's ass. There'd have been no Derek, lying prone on the bed, and no Peter, straddling his nephew.

But there had been. There'd been Peter, sinking down onto Derek's cock, hissing as he was split open. And there'd been Scott, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around the base of Derek's dick, steadying him as Peter had slowly lowered himself.

Scott remembers the look on Derek's face. The wide, blown eyes as he'd been enveloped by the heat of his uncle's body, the way he'd reached out to Scott, claws partly out as he'd grabbed Scott's arm, digging in with tiny pin pricks. And Scott had wanted to be in there with him.

He'd slicked lube over himself as he'd shuffled forward, Derek opening his legs for Scott to move between them, to keep Peter open for them both.

There'd been no words to ask if Peter was ready, just a hand on Peter's back, and then a nod of Peter's head and Chris telling Scott to do it. And then he'd been against Peter's ass, the head of his cock pushing carefully. Scott hadn't thought it was going to happen, that Peter was too tight, too full already. And then he'd watched as Chris had reached out, had run his fingers through Peter's hair, had heard the _"Let him in, Peter--"_

He'd pressed harder, wrapping his fingers around his dick as he'd pushed. And then he'd felt Peter's rim twitch under his cock, felt Peter shift, and then he was in, sinking into Peter's ass, pressed flush against Derek.

And, god. Peter had been so _tight_ , holding him and Derek together, Derek's cock a band of heat next to Scott. He'd wanted to move, wanted to fuck into Peter, harsh and fast. Wanted to feel Derek with him, the two of them taking Peter, owning him. Even if he'd known Peter wasn't theirs, would never really be theirs, not while Chris was there.

Underneath them, Derek had hunched his hips up, and Scott had taken the cue, had slid out of Peter until only the head of his cock was still inside, before gliding back in. And it had taken some effort, the need and desire running through all of them making co-ordination harder than it should have been, but then they were _there_.

And Scott remembers fucking Peter, remembers him and Derek pressed together inside Peter's body, one of them sliding out as the other slid in. Remembers the breathy pants Peter gave until Chris moved closer, slipped his cock between Peter's lips and silenced them.

He remembers tight and heat, remembers Derek's moans, and the feel of Peter's skin under him, where his fingers gripped at Peter's hips. He remembers the air thick with the scent of all of them, with the salt of sweat and precome and arousal.

Chris had come first, and Scott had heard the sound of Peter swallowing, of Chris' hand brushing across the back of Peter's neck, of _"Peter--"_

Peter had been next, Chris' hand around his cock, stripping him in time with Scott and Derek's thrusts. There had been no barrier to Peter's voice without Chris' cock quietening him. No barrier to the _Yes--_ and the _Please--_ and the _Chris--_ No barrier to the moan that felt like it was ripped out of Peter's chest as he'd come, splattering Chris' fingers and Derek's chest, the scent of it sharp and sweet in Scott's senses.

And then it was just him and Derek, and Scott's not entirely sure who came first. Just remembers Peter's body clenching tight around them as he'd come, his muscles rippling over them as he'd shuddered between them. Scott thinks it may have been Derek, thinks he felt Derek's come on his cock, thinks he came a split second after, both of them filling Peter up from the inside. Marking Peter in a way Scott had never thought possible, in a way Scott had never realised he'd wanted until last night.

They'd pulled out of Peter's body, Scott sliding out first and then Derek. And Scott remembers swiping his fingers through the trail of white that had followed Derek's cock out of Peter's body, remembers lifting them to his mouth and licking the combined taste of him and Derek off his skin.

Peter had moved while Scott was lapping the come off his fingers, collapsing half on the bed and half on Derek. Chris had been pressed against Peter's back, and Scott remembers burrowing into Derek's other side, remembers the heat coming from Derek's body, remembers the lethargy that had started to overtake him. And he remembers the scent in the air that held all four of them and thrummed through Scott's body every time he breathed in. Thrummed with yes and mine and pack, thrummed with a soft sense of peace and belonging as sleep had overtaken him.

And now here he is, limbs on top of limbs, and the four of them managing to fit into a bed that occasionally feels too small even when it's just Scott and Derek in it. Carefully opening his eyes, Scott realises that he's managed to move into the middle of the pile of them. Derek is on one side, one of his legs thrown over Scott's and his face mashed into the top of Scott's arm. Scott can feel the soft breath coming from Derek brushing over his skin, brushing over where his tattoo lies.

And Scott loves this, loves waking up with Derek. He loves seeing Derek's sleep heavy gaze slowly focus, and hearing the subtle change in his breathing as he wakes. It feels _right_ , having Derek next to him, their combined scents filling the air.

The surprise is Chris and Peter. Peter, who stays on the edges of the pack, a legacy of who he's been and what he's done. Peter, who watches the easy touches that go between the rest of them, watches the affirmation of their pack bonds, and then moves to Chris' side. And Chris. Chris, who could so easily be closer to all of them, but chooses not to be.

Scott turns his head, looking at the sleeping form of Peter. The other wolf seems younger when he's sleeping, all trace of machination smoothed out of his features. Scott looks at Peter, looks at the way Chris is curled around him, a hand resting possessively on Peter's hip. Scott looks at Peter and sees the reason Chris holds himself back.

And it makes something in Scott's wolf settle, having the three of them around him like this. He hadn't realised how agitated his wolf was until now, having two of the pack on the periphery, close enough for the pack link to be there, but weak and tenuous. But it already feels stronger than it had. Brighter and clearer, like Scott can reach out and touch it, instead of it dancing away, just beyond his fingertips.

He thinks that maybe the pixies were right, that maybe they did need this. Oh, he has no doubt it'll be an interesting conversation once they're all awake, full of pitfalls and past history and possible traps all over the place. But he has faith they'll get through it, has faith the pack will be stronger for it.

Scott thinks he'll look at the pack, at _all_ of the pack, and see the links between each of them. See them strong and sharp and clear, and ready to withstand whatever the future throws at them. And, in the end, that's all he wants.


End file.
